


Relax For Me

by orphan_account



Series: Let's Roleplay! [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Hermione Granger, Aged-Up Character(s), Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Established Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Smut, Insecurity, Makeup Sex, Massage, Massage Oil Mishap, POV Alternating, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Past Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Secret Relationship, Sexual Roleplay, Slow Build, Vanilla, Vulnerable Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25097998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hermione Granger is still trying to explore what it means to be in a new relationship. Draco Malfoy struggles to overcome his poor reputation in the Wizarding World as an Ex-Death Eater. Their problems lead to a silly spat, which Hermione proposes they have a night of reconciliation and relaxation by insisting she gives him a massage.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Let's Roleplay! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799008
Comments: 37
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _A HUGE thank you to[ TakingFlight48](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takingflight48) as my Beta._   
>  _Lovely moodboard created by[Kiwi05622](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwi05622/works)_   
> 

Hermione furrowed her brows as she held the two crystalline bottles in front of her. When she left for the apothecary on her lunch break, she had every intention of keeping it quick, but as she glanced at her wristwatch, she groaned realizing she had lost 45 minutes due to her indecision. 

She nibbled on her lower lip as her eyes bounced between the two labels, the silliness of it all sitting deep in her gut - gosh, it was just massage oil!

But she knew her hesitance bore from a different matter. They had a _silly_ row a few days ago that _may_ have started when she touched on a sensitive topic for Draco. She felt another pang of guilt when she recalled a flash of hurt in Draco’s eyes when she suggested asking for Harry’s help. Knowing he was too heated up and hurt to _hear_ her, she left before they escalated the pointless fight. However, it had now been three days since they had last spoken, last _seen_ each other.

She wasn’t looking at massage oils to apologize, after all, she did nothing wrong. However, she was hoping to provide him with the opportunity to apologize for overreacting to her _legitimate_ advice and care with one of these two bottles she had now been ruminating over for a truly excessive amount of time.

She read the two tacky labels over and _over_ again, “ _One Night Pleasure_ ,” or “ _Deepest Pleasure_ ”. They were both written in a tawdry looking cursive. As she re-read the word “pleasure,” the familiar heat bubbled up from her navel. Her hands gently squeezed the bottles as she envisioned _him_ stripped and laid before her. His muscles all taut and glistening, dripping with the oil-

“Hi Hermione,” a familiar lilt spoke behind her. By reflex, her fingers further clenched around the two bottles, grateful they seemed suitably strong. As she turned around she _casually_ hid the two bottles behind her back, easing her grip and hoping this would help in alleviating her discomfort of being caught.

A sleepy gaze with an easy-going smile met her. “Luna!” Hermione choked out, “Fancy seeing you here,” she let out a short laugh, grimacing at the stiffness of her voice.

She wasn’t sure why she was feeling particularly embarrassed that she was shopping around for _massage oils._ They were certainly not a scandalous item by any means, yet she could barely contain her eagerness to flee from this interaction.

“Oh, I was just looking for some _Kelpwhistle_ scented incense – oh there it is,” Luna said as she reached around Hermione to pick up a white box with a forest green bow tied around it. “They’re great at calming _nargles_ during winter.”

Hermione nodded absently, “Of - of course, the _nargles_.” Hoping Luna would bid her adieu and leave her to weigh the pros and cons of the two massage oils. She gripped the bottles tightly, hoping they wouldn’t slip from her increasingly clammier hands.

Luna tilted her head as if she was pondering on something before beaming a relaxed smile and leaning in. “I recommend _Deepest Pleasure_.” Hermione’s shoulders went rigid before she forced herself to relax with a slight huff of breath and the reminder that she was _just_ getting massage oils.

“Oh?” her voice came out as a rasp, annoyed at herself, she cleared her throat and nodded, “I’ll take that into consideration, thank you.” 

Luna nodded along, “Oh yes, I used it on Rolf, and it was quite a delight!”

Her insides squirmed as mental images of Rolf and Luna naked while rubbing each other with the massage oil came into mind. She shook her head in an attempt to remove the accidental imagery, “Oh, oka-”

“The _Deepest Pleasure_ is an interesting experience,” Luna continued as if they were the only ones in the store. Knowing how open Luna was, Hermione looked around discreetly for any coworkers that could be within hearing distance, or perhaps one specific coworker with curly blonde hair and glacial blue eyes. She sighed in relief when she couldn’t recognize any of the current patrons, but leaned in just a smidge closer as if to encourage the low tones of the conversation. “Did you know that the massage oil has ingredients most commonly found in _Amortentia_?”

Hermione’s attention snapped back to Luna, “Really?” She finally brought the two bottles in front of her, feeling foolish that she was hiding them in the first place. “Perhaps I should get the _One Night Pleasure_ instead. I remember when Ro-” she stopped herself abruptly and cleared her throat. “I mean, I knew a bloke that was given _Amortentia_ and he went positively barmy.”

“Oh, it won’t alter any feelings. Its primary purpose is for relaxation, so the users will just find the scent very _pleasant_ ,” Luna explained.

Hermione further considered the two bottles with her attention mostly on _Deepest Pleasure_ as the oil had a silver undertone shimmering under the light. She rolled the bottle in her hand, trying to convince herself that this was the best choice. However, her stomach churned as she tentatively asked, “I’m assuming, then, that my partner and I would smell what we find most attractive, and not just of each other?”

Luna’s eyes shone with the keen eye of understanding Hermione always found slightly unnerving, “Oh yes, for Rolf it was my favourite shampoo and I smelled the breakfast tea he has every morning!”

Hermione continued to hold what she hoped was a pleasant smile while she imagined the hundreds of scenarios where this could backfire if they both realized they smelled something that wasn’t related to each other. But her relationship with Draco Malfoy was still new; they had only been seeing each other for two months now. If she fell in love too soon – she stopped that train of thought and willed the engine to cool. 

She refused to overthink this.

She decided that this was a treat for Draco and if the _Deepest Pleasure_ massage oil would be effective at relaxing him, then who was she to hold out on a clearly superior choice?

“Thanks, Luna, I’ll get this after all,” Hermione held out the bottle to display the logical and for no other reason, final choice.

“You’re welcome, I’m sure Draco will enjoy it,” Luna said casually.

Hermione stared at Luna incredulously, “Wh-what? D-Draco? Draco Malfoy?” She quickly analyzed their conversation to see if she dropped any hints that she was seeing Draco Malfoy. 

Luna’s expression remained aloof, “Oh, was it supposed to be a secret?”

“I-” Hermione’s brain was working in overdrive, trying to come up with a plausible reason why she did not want anyone to know of her current relationship with Draco. She was not ashamed to be with him. They _(read: he)_ both decided that due to their _(read: his)_ current status, it would be best to see where the relationship was headed before everyone else shared their less than supportive opinions. For Merlin’s sake, even her best friends didn’t know she was seeing Draco Malfoy!

Luna gave her a reassuring smile, “Don’t worry, Hermione, I won’t tell anyone.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, _anything_ , but she clamped down her lips and managed a strained nod, parting ways shortly after.

She returned to her office, hungry and two bottles of massage oil richer, having simply bought both after her encounter with Luna. She eyed the stack of work she had planned to get through today in an attempt to free up time for some of her side projects. She let out a breath as she contemplated the case she was putting together for the Ministry to consider offering free _Wolfsbane_ to the disenfranchised werewolf community as well as her more _personal_ project involving Draco.

As her mind wandered to Draco once again, her attention drifted towards the paper bag containing the two massage oils. Her eyes flitted to the door before staring back to the paper bag. She would be lying if she wasn’t curious about what the _Deepest Pleasure_ would smell like to her. Assuming it was more alike than different from the _Amortentia_ potion; would she smell something that reminded her of Draco? She bit her lip to stop herself from shaking her head forcefully as she cast another glance at her open office door. What nonsense! To _already_ be in love with Draco Malfoy was just, well, impossible.

She opened the paper bag.

That would be absolutely barmy!

She pulled out the _Deepest Pleasure_ massage oil.

She bet 10 galleons that she would smell either new parchment – she broke the seal – or freshly mowed grass – she popped off the lid.

She took a quick sniff, and slammed the massage oil onto her desk, spilling some on her hand in her haste.

Knowing this was a variant, she shouldn't have been surprised it was only one scent; however, instead of smelling the same new parchment or freshly mown grass she expected – she gulped – she smelled the clean, crispness of _his_ aftershave, with an undernote of - her eyes closed - green apples.

“Oh bugger,” she whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to [ Takingflight48](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Takingflight48/pseuds/Takingflight48) for the beta! Love you! 

Malfoys did not sulk.

Instead, he lounged languidly on his sofa that Thursday afternoon with a glass of Firewhisky, neat, the first sure sign all was not as it seemed. However, had anyone been looking into his living room, he would be the picturesque model of someone enjoying his leisure. Except, well, he was on glass number four, and it wasn’t nearly 3 p.m. yet, was it?. 

He swirled the amber liquid, scoffing as it reminded him of a certain bushy-haired witch’s eyes, and drained the cup in one gulp, luxuriating in the burning sensation clawing down his throat. He stood up unsteadily, swaying slightly as he made his way to pour glass number five.

How unfortunate that drinking alcohol invited unwanted thoughts before he felt the sweet release from alcohol-induced numbness. He stared down at his cup bitterly; with his tolerance level, he knew it would take a few glasses before that blessed numbness. 

You are forced to support a Dark Lord _once_ , and everyone sees you as a dark wizard for the rest of your life. It didn’t even matter if two of the Golden Trio testified at your trial, publicly supporting the acquittal of you and your family.

He sat back down, dropping his head to the back of the chair as his hand idly swirled the liquid, mirroring his whirling thoughts. He stared blankly at the white, _pure_ canvas of his ceiling, noting that there was not a single speck to disturb its’ purity, a perfect paint job.

Smiling wryly, it didn’t matter how much he atoned, the _dark mark_ would ensure that his reputation will be tarnished forever. Unlike his ceiling, he can’t simply paint over unsightly marks.

Closing his eyes, he could faintly hear Granger’s voice, ~~nagging~~ , _convincing_ him that he is more than a mark on his arm.

A swell of warmth filled his chest, or was that heartburn? Nonetheless, Merlin, did he miss Granger.

It had been three days since they last had a spectacular – _pointless_ – argument.

He had received an owl cancelling _another_ work order. When his position as CEO of Curse Breaker Inc. was leaked, the fickle Wizarding populace revolted against _the_ Draco Malfoy _, ex-_ Death Eater extraordinaire, working on their cursed items and flocks of cancellation notices began plaguing his flat.

 _Hermione’s brows furrowed, “You received another one?”_ _She plucked a letter from his growing pile, and reviewed its’ content, causing her brows to crease even further as she glanced up at him._

_His jaw was sore from his excessive grinding. Crumpling the paper, he threw it on the floor, breathing deep in his attempt to not stomp and further grind it against the floor for good measure. “How the bloody hell did they know that the company was owned by me?” He paced around the room, needing to burn this awful energy. His hands clenched and unclenched, the pacing barely stopping him from his desire to break something, anything, preferably something fragile, like Lucius’s 16th-century china. “I opened the company with Nott, my name doesn’t appear on any of the company’s papers. I’m just listed in the footnotes as a bloody shareholder, I triple checked!”_

_Hermione crouched low to pick up the crumpled letter, “Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise?”_

_He stopped pacing momentarily and shot her an incredulous look._

_“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she grinned, "you're brilliant at what you do, Draco. Surely, once you allow news to spread that you were the Auror's main asset in handling and dismantling many of the cursed items immediately after the war, people will change their tune. Then they’ll have to give your company a chance, for no other reason than you are the best at what you do, and slowly public opinion will begin to change."_

_He gave a loud bark of laughter before resuming his fruitless pacing, “That’s ‘if’ they decided to ever give my company a bloody chance. You know why I worked with the Aurors; it wasn’t so the people would change their tune.”_

_She let out a small huff before inserting herself in his routed path. Her little hands rising up to gently hold his biceps, keeping him in place. “They will give you a chance, just you wait.”_

He received more cancellation notices the following day.

His frustration boiled over when Hermione suggested she could speak with _Head Auror_ Harry Potter to determine if they had cases that would benefit from third-party Curse Breakers.

_“Yes, so that Potter,” he spat, “can once again rush in, protecting the ex-Death Eater, and save the bloody day!”_

_He could tell from the way Hermione’s neck and face flushed, the way her eyes narrowed, and the way her chin jutted out, that he was angering her._

_“Malfoy,” she ground out, her arms crossing over her chest, “take your prattish attitude elsewhere. This could help!” She shifted her stance, tightening her arms around herself, effectively closing him out._

_Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the stress, or the hangover, but something in him snapped when he heard her call him by his surname in that tone – as if they were thirteen all over again._

_He threw his arms in the air, effectively hiding his automatic reaction to rub his nose, but causing her to startle so much she took a small step back. Forgetting the slap in their third year, her slight retreat stoked his irritation further. “Why don’t we ask Potter,” he sneered, “to take over my company too? I’m sure the hero of the Wizarding World could simply save my failing business,” - he snapped his fingers - “quicker than an ‘Expelliarmus.’”_

_Her lips parted, and he expected her fire in defence of her best friend, her sharp tongue to rise up to his mocking. With his arms now crossed across his own chest perhaps in an attempt to shield his further corroded ego, he waited. To his surprise and alarm, her lips clamped shut instead, she blinked her glossy eyes, and she marched resolutely past him._

_His head was suddenly spinning. The usual Granger would’ve had his bollocks in hand in a matter of seconds. “Where are you going?” he trailed behind her._

_She stopped, and he was two steps away from wrapping his arms around her and apologizing before stopping short as he heard her take a small shaky breath. With a deceptively calm voice, she said, “I’m going home now.”_

_Before he was able to engage his legs to take the last two steps to close the gap, she left with a deafening crack._

He knew he should’ve asked why she was leaving, but he didn’t, and now he hadn’t heard from Hermione since. He replayed their conversation, repeatedly, almost obsessively, to the point where it was likely certain details were now distorted.

He cursed himself once more for freezing up instead of taking the two bloody steps to close the distance and hug her. Through trial and error, he had learned he was more likely to receive her forgiveness if he held her close and apologized right away. 

Squinting an eye open, he shot back the rest of his drink. He summoned the bottle to refill his glass, setting it successfully, albeit shakily, on the center table, and shoving his wand back in its’ holster. He sighed, remembering how Hermione’s suggestion had been another dagger to his already wounded pride. He knew she had suggested it because she found him deserving of Potter’s support rather than another pet project she could save. However, he couldn’t see past the acute embarrassment that resonated through his pride at crawling back to Potter when he already owed him so much. 

His lips barely grazed the rim of his cup when his fireplace suddenly roared to life. Immediately after, a new sound broke through his whiskey haze. He sincerely hoped his fireplace was just broken and that he imagined hearing someone coming out. Opening his eyes to the blank canvas of his ceiling once again, he forced his neck to roll to the side and lift up, attempting to demonstrate his desire to remain alone with just one look to this new intruder – well, guest.

“Mate, you look terrible,” Blaise said as he shrugged out of his navy peacoat.

“Nice to see you too,” Draco mumbled, eyeing him as he took a small sip from his glass.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Blaise said with a bright, much too cheery tone and poured himself a generous amount of his _Ogden’s Finest._ He situated himself across from Draco, resting his ankle on his opposite knee and sighed, effectively ruining the _not sulking_ aesthetic Draco had been perfecting.

Draco waited for Blaise to explain the purpose of his current presence here, but he seemed content to just continue drinking _his_ Firewhisky.

He ran his fingers through his hair, calming his frayed nerves before speaking to his old friend, “I’m sure if you wanted a drink, you could’ve easily had one in the comfort of your own home.” His words came out dry, and his nose wrinkled at how whiny he sounded. Yes, fine, he was still very much in a bitter mood.

“You’re not wrong,” Blaise said, lips twitching up, before taking another measured sip.

Draco tapped his signet ring against his glass, imitating a ticking time bomb, moments from detonating and telling Blaise to sod off. “To what, do I owe the pleasure, Zabini?” He said instead, thanking Mr. Ogden for holding off his building ire.

“Oh, you know, Nott’s bitching at me that you’ve missed work, and you’re needed to make some final decisions for your company,” Blaise said.

“I’m only a major shareholder-”

“In name only,” Blaise interrupted.

Another brief silence before Draco sighed, “I’m sure you have heard of our company’s current predicament?”

“Yes,” Blaise agreed.

Draco waited for Blaise to expound further, but when his silence remained, Draco bit out, “Zabini, tell Nott that I’ll be there next Monday.” He hoped that it was enough for Blaise to take the hint and go on his merry way.

“I’m not an owl,” Blaise said pointedly, “honestly Malfoy, do I look like I have wings?”

But of course, nothing ever goes Draco’s way. He sucked his bottom teeth and took in a small fortifying breath, praying to the Gods of Olde to grant him enough patience to deal with this pillock. “Right,” he said in a clipped tone, “of course you’re not. Owls are infinitely more useful.”

“You wound me, Malfoy,” Blaise said as he placed his hand over his chest and continued with a put upon air, “why can’t I just hang out with one of my best mates?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. He was not in the mood to play Blaise’s guessing game. “Zabini, you’re here for two reasons. One, to complain about the women who are currently running your life, and two,” he waved at the tumbler in Blaise’s hand, “drinking my Firewhisky.” 

He sniffed, “So I suppose I answered my question as to why you’re here, but today’s not a good day,” Blaise opened his mouth, but Draco was quick to cut him off, “nor tomorrow, or the day after that, or really any other days for that matter!”

There was a brief silence before Blaise gave him a low whistle, “Mate, you really need a shag or five - no - ten. Ten shags should cure your hissy fit.”

He felt a throbbing pain radiating out from his left temple and massaged it to ease the tension. Blaise had no idea how much he missed shagging Hermione, and he did not need a reminder that Hermione was currently pissed at him.

“Just leave,” Draco said, letting out a defeated sigh.

“Come on, mate,” Blaise dropped his ankle from his knee, “Nott and I are going to grab a drink tonight, you should join us.”

“Can’t. Busy,” Draco said as he lifted his glass.

Blaise finally groaned, “Just get sloshed with us instead of sulking-”

“I’m not sulking-”

“Right, keep telling yourself that,” Blaise scoffed, “but listen, we haven’t seen you since that stupid Battle Of Hogwarts Annual Gala that the insipid Ministry mandates us to attend.”

“They don’t mandate us to do anything, they just strongly _encourage_ ” - Blaise made a show of rolling his eyes hard enough to see the whites of his eyes - “us to attend. Besides, I’ve been otherwise engaged.” 

“ _You_ , Draco Malfoy, preoccupied?” Blaise asked incredulously, “Please tell me a better lie because that was weak mate. I would say a Gryffindor level excuse.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco sat up, genuinely curious what they all thought he did during his downtime, while internally cringing at how Gryffindor his excuse actually was.

“Theo is insisting that you have some secret girlfriend,” Blaise said with a hint of mocking in his tone. Draco schooled his features as his thighs tensed up. He made a show of casually drinking from his tumbler as Blaise continued, “I say that you’re just sulking and getting sloshed every night.” 

He wasn’t sure what to say. Draco planned on telling his friends about Hermione, but _they_ both agreed that _they_ should wait before making their relationship official and public. He opted to just bite his tongue and shrug his shoulder.

“Come on ma-” Blaise’s words stopped short when three sharp clacks rapped against the window.

_Clack. Clack. Clack._

Draco made no motion to get up.

“Are you going to get that?” Blaise asked, raising a brow.

“Ignore it,” Draco said, just knowing that it was going to be another flurry of bloody cancellation notices.

“Well, okay-” _Clack. Clack. Clack._ “So, my new massage oil reached-” _Clack. Clack. Clack._ Blaise stopped and waited for the owl to leave. When it was quiet, he continued, “Mate, you have to come out, my new massage-” _Clack. Clack. Clack._ Blaise scowled, “That’s bloody annoying,” he stood up and made his way to the owl.

“Don’t bother,” Draco mumbled into his glass as Blaise walked past him, “it’s probably more bloody cancellation notices.”

He heard the latch of his window open, “Malfoy! Where do you keep the owl treats?” Blaise called back as he walked into his kitchen.

“It’s in the drawer to the left of the window,” Draco’s annoyed timbre yelled back.

“Okay, well, you have a lot of drawers-” he grumbled as Draco heard several drawers open then shut, “you need to be more specif- aha! Never mind got some!”

After several moments Blaise sat back down, eyeing the envelope. “Draco, why did the Ministry owl drop off a letter?”

“I don’t know, probably another bloody questionnaire to make sure I haven’t gone back to my Death Eater’s way,” Draco said as he took a large gulp of Firewhisky to wash down the self-pity of his current situation.

Blaise snorted, “Oh yea, Pans gets it from time to time,” he opened the envelope, “what kind of question is, ‘are you still involved in Death Eater activities?’” Blaise took out a single page from the envelope. 

Had he been of a clearer mind, Draco might have realized the letter was from Hermione as the Ministry questionnaire arrived in larger envelopes. In contrast, Hermione’s personal messages while at work arrived in smaller envelopes, as white and pure as his ceiling. But alas, hindsight was a bitch. 

“Like seriously, they do realize people can lie-” Blaise stopped abruptly, his mouth hanging open.

“What?” Draco asked, leaning forward to grab the letter.

“Mate, why is Hermione Granger writing you?” Blaise asked, looking at Draco and then back at the letter.

“What?” Draco ripped the letter out of Blaise’s hand and read Hermione’s neat scrawl three times.

It was one line, six words, and her first name.

_See you at 7:30 p.m._

_\- Hermione_

He could feel his blood pumping, pounding against his eardrums. He reread the note, one word at a time, to decipher what sort of mood Hermione was in as his thumb rested beside her name. Was she still angry? He raked his fingers through his hair, already imagining the worst-case scenario. What if she wanted him to pick up all of his belongings from her home?

“Please tell me that’s not Granger, and it’s just some other girl named Hermione,” Blaise said, breaking Draco’s racing thoughts.

He looked up from his note, and sneered, “You have a problem with Granger?”

It was almost comical as Blaise’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened and closed. He wanted to enjoy Blaise’s reaction and brag that he was, in fact, secretly seeing Hermione. But that feeling was short-lived when he realized that there was a strong possibility that Hermione may leave him tonight.

“It’s not that I have a problem with Granger,” Blaise said carefully, his eyes guarded, “just, this is _Granger_ we’re talking about.”

Draco furrowed his brows, “Don’t be so obtuse, Zabini.”

“I mean, what – how – when – what?” 

“Listen, I don’t have the time nor the want to gossip, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that this,” he held the note up, and Blaise’s eyes went cross-eyed staring at the letter, “stays between us.”

Blaise gave a small, reluctant nod.

“Good.” Draco gave a curt nod back. He needed to shower, down a hangover potion, and think of how to apologize to Hermione. “Show yourself out, Zabini,” he said before walking away.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Draco turned around and raised a brow, “I need to be presentable since I’m seeing Hermione tonight,” he waved his hand down at his sleek black bathrobe to make a point. He turned to walk away before stopping and turned back around to see Blaise rooted to the same spot. He scrunched up his nose, “Zabini,” he called out, “what do you give Pansy whenever you piss her off?”

“Uh...what?”

“Flowers and chocolates would suffice?” He asked before nodding more to himself and walked away. After all, Hermione wasn’t the type to be won over by extravagant gifts. Perhaps he could pick up the newest edition of _Hogwarts: A History_. She did mention that she was planning to pick it up this weekend.

He lost a great deal from a war he never wanted to join, and he fought halfheartedly at best for the wrong side, secretly rejoicing when they lost. But, he would fight tooth and nail to keep from losing this battle. After all, he was best with Hermione by his side.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Huge thank you to[ Takingflight48](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Takingflight48) for editing this chapter. She really made this final piece a *chef's kiss*_

She was sitting on the couch, bouncing her left leg as she looked at the fireplace then back at the clock for the nth time. It was 7:29 p.m., still. She gnawed at her lower lip. It wasn’t like they’d never fought before, but this was the _first_ time she had walked away.

She worried about what mood he would be in today. Would he be surly? Would he be angry since she left him and the first communication she had sent was more a statement than a suggestion to meet her in her domain?

She cursed inwardly; she should have at least had the courtesy to write a pleasant greeting. She looked down at her robe, and started to feel the inkling of self-doubt that perhaps this was not appropriate attire. Before she could second-guess herself and change her outfit, her fireplace roared to life with a green flame. A familiar figure dipped his head to exit the fireplace.

Draco wore a simple white oxford shirt, tucked into black trousers. His hair was swept back, giving him a roguish look. It was unfair how effortlessly handsome he looked.

Her attention was drawn to several items he held in his hands. He had a bouquet of a dozen red roses, a box of chocolate, and her eyes widened when they landed on the newest edition of _Hogwarts: A History_. Her heart instantly warmed at the thought of him remembering her passing comment. When they met each other’s gaze, her legs naturally carried her towards him.

He stood as still as a statue, and it would have been off-putting if his hands weren’t crinkling the wrapper around the bouquet.

When she stood close enough to catch his familiar aftershave, she shuddered. She had been pleasantly haunted by the smell of his aftershave all day, thanks to the massage oil that had spilled over her hand. She could’ve washed her hands, but she felt such a sense of peace to have something to remind her of Draco nearby compared to the loneliness from earlier in the day. Her focus at work had deteriorated as the afternoon progressed, and by the time she had to punch out, she felt flushed and _needy_.

She raised her hand to caress his cheek with her thumb. His shoulders sagged, and a small sigh escaped his lips.

“Hi,” she greeted.

“Hi,” his voice was gravelly.

“I missed you,” she said before she could stop her lips from moving.

He stared at her without a flicker of emotion passing his face. She felt her cheeks growing hot as he stood silent.

Before she spoke one more word, his lips came crashing down on hers. The gifts crunching between them and the hard edge of the book digging into her sternum. But she didn’t mind.

She raised her other hand and cradled his face as she indulged on his soft lips and the smell of crisp spring water from his aftershave.

He drew back for a breath of fresh air, after a few gasps, he asked, “You’re not angry?”

She mirrored him and tried to wrangle in her raging libido for a few moments longer, “I’m not angry.”

“I got these for you,” he blurted out as he clumsily thrust his offerings to her, realizing a moment too late how the gifts were already crushed between them.

She took a step back, and with a whisper of a smirk looked down, placing them on the coffee table behind them. She shook her head, “You didn’t have to,” she said, “but thank you,” she trailed a reverent finger across the cover of the book.

“I wanted to,” he came to stand behind her, and hugged her tight against his front, nose buried in the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply and they stood there for a moment. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his arms around her waist and the silence the contentment brought with it. 

“I don’t want to ask Potter for help,” he declared, breaking the silence.

She was confused for a moment before recalling the reason for Draco's harsh words three days ago.

She placed her hands over his, “Okay,” she agreed.

With such a simple acceptance, he hugged her even tighter. “I know you want to help, but I need-” he paused, letting her words of agreement sink in, “wait, really?” he asked with a tone of disbelief.

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, really.”

“Then that’s good?” he asked.

“You tell me,” she shrugged.

He was quiet once more before he sighed, “What did you do?”

She took a step forward, and his arms fell back to his sides. She turned around with a confident grin. 

“I was thinking,” she said as she clasped her hands in front of her, lacing her fingers together to reduce her fidgeting, “people should know that you _do_ provide the best quality of service.” 

She tried to read him, eyes darting over his face, but it remained blank. Her hands started to grow clammy so she clamped them tighter and continued in his silence, “So,” she took a deep breath, “I may have suggested to Mrs. Worthinger from the Curse Breaker Department to have you hold a class, well, more like a seminar of the basics of curse breaking. It would include topics such as how to recognize curses in an item and perhaps how to break simple curses,” her voice pitched higher as her tongue twisted and turned to send an onslaught of words his way.

Draco still didn’t say anything. She bit the inside of her cheek to silence herself and surreptitiously wiped her hands on the robe.

“I have a lot of questions, but I don’t know where to start,” he finally conceded with a sigh.

This was a good sign; after all, he didn’t outright complain or shoot her suggestion down.

“I guess my first question is,” he finally said after some thought, “Why are you naked under that robe?” he concluded, quirking up a brow as his eyes traced over her thin robe, and the corner of his lip twitching slightly.

She bit her bottom lip, attempting coyness and lowered her gaze to his chest, “You’ll find out if you come up to my room.”

With an internal nod, she decided they could discuss his business after he relaxed, and she had a good feeling he would be more open to her suggestions after a thorough rub down. She walked as confidently as possible towards her room, attempting stealth when she tried to take a quick peek to make sure he was following her there. He gave her a small smile, and she felt her stomach flutter as she whipped her head forward once again.

She turned around as she opened the door in time to see Draco looking curiously at the eight floating candles that surrounded her bed.

“Are we summoning something?” he asked in a droll tone.

Her lips twitched upwards, unsure whether to laugh at his question or berate him for ruining the mood. Shaking her head slightly, she cleared her throat and gave him a bright smile, which prompted him to raise a brow.

“Welcome to Granger’s Massaging Parlor, where we guarantee a _happy ending” –_ she gave him an exaggerated wink, and he sputtered out a laugh, “for all of our patrons!” She encircled her hand around his wrist and tugged him towards the massage bed that had been partially obscured by her bed. Thankful that he had moved along with her, she gently guided him to sit on the low massage table, giving him another brilliant smile and quickly turning to the table along the back wall. 

She grabbed the two crystalline bottles that had two _very_ different effects. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go ahead with using the _Deepest Pleasure_ oil after all. What if the scent Draco found most pleasant belonged to another woman or worse an old memory? What if he - 

“So, I’m getting a massage?” Draco’s voice brought her back to the present moment.

She looked up and saw his silver eyes shimmer from the flickering candles. “Yes,” her voice hoarse.

He chuckled lightly, “Perhaps we should squabble more often.”

She huffed and gave him a mock glare, “Not what I was going for.”

He raised his hands in equal mock surrender before they both broke into a wide grin.

Draco straightened his back and cracked his neck, “Well, lead on Ms. Granger,” he said. 

A shiver of anticipation tingled its way down her spine; this was her cue to start the scene. She clutched the two massage oils tightly as she turned back to him; knowing her own insecurities wouldn’t let her pick confidently she decided to place it in Fate’s, or rather Draco’s hands. 

“As the patron, I give you the option of two high-end massage oils,” she said as she presented the bottles to him, “pick wisely.” He took the two bottles with a slight grin, and a choice was made a beat later.

“This,” he said as he lifted the bottle of _Deepest Pleasure_.

“O-oh?” She swallowed down her shock. 

“Zabini is actually the inventor of this oil,” he stated, unaware of her current state of nervousness, “and he’s been nagging me to use it.”

“Did he, uhm, tell you about this oil?” She attempted nonchalance. 

He shrugged, “Nothing much, apparently it smells good and it’s popular amongst couples.”

She sighed quietly in relief as she was not ready to feel out how serious he thought they were, even if a small part of her couldn't deny the burning need to sit and discuss the depth of their feelings together. Shaking aside her thoughts, she focused on the purpose of tonight: reconciliation and relaxation.

“Well, now that that’s decided,” she plucked the bottles from his hand, setting the rejected bottle back on the back table. 

“Mr. Malfoy, please strip,” she said in a prim voice.

“You’re not going to help me out of them?” He asked with a cheeky smile.

She wore a mask of professional indifference, “Do you require any assistance?” she retorted.

“Maybe? I was quite pissed before this _session_ ” he said, keeping his brazen smile. 

She knew he was playing difficult to derail her from her role. Not realizing his silly retorts were playing right into her plan, she stood just between his open legs. His smirk fell when her fingers slowly slid up to his collar and deftly unbuttoned his shirt. She peeled his shirt off and took her time folding it carefully and placing it beside the rejected oil bottle.

Turning back, she was tempted to run her hands down his solid torso but refrained as she moved to unbuckle his belt and trouser button. 

Knowing the zip would be easiest if he stood she looked up at him. “I need you to stand up so I can take off your trousers and pants,” her voice barely above a whisper.

He stood, but he didn’t need any assistance taking off his final two layers. She barely registered that he had folded those alongside his shirt until he brushed past her. She eyed his half-hardened prick and licked her lips.

“Do Muggle massage parlours often have their guests fully naked, or am I doing this wrong?” Draco asked as he sat back down.

She looked up and refocused on his twinkling grey eyes, clearing her throat, “Well, they often give their clients a towel to cover up their private bits.”

“I see, so this is a _special_ parlour,” he gave her a wolfish grin. 

She smothered down a bubble of laughter and pointed at her bed, “Lie on your stomach.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer if I lied on my back?” he said as he gestured towards his growing member.

“Draco, you’ll enjoy it, just lie on your back,” her tone was almost pleading, working overtime to stay in character. She knew that if he kept teasing her she would abandon her plan and just let him ravish her.

His eyes widened, “Wait, you’re actually going to give me a massage?”

“Well, deduced,” she said briskly, motioning once again at the massage table under him.

“Have you ever given a massage?” He asked, hesitance clear in his voice.

She paused before answering, “I’ve read about the ideal areas to massage. I’m sure it can’t be too hard, it’s just rubbing your body.”

He looked apprehensive before turning his head away from her with a pout.

She groaned before lightly smacking his shoulder, “Stop being so dramatic, it’s going to be fine.”

“Famous last words,” he grumbled before lying on his stomach.

“What was that?” she snapped.

“Nothing, love,” he quickly responded.

He adjusted his member by raising his hips slightly, glad for the light crease in the table to accommodate his size before lying back down on his stomach. “Okay, I’m ready, do your worst,” his voice came out muffled as he adjusted his face into the opening at the head of the massage bed.

His arm reached out and tugged on her sash gently, “Aren’t you going to take these off?” he asked innocently, “You seem a bit overdressed.”

She batted his hand away, “Be patient,” she chided.

Obeying, he let his arm drop heavily from her robe. 

“Honestly,” she said, feeling exasperated as she lifted his arm back to the table, purposely limp for the pouting prince. 

She laid her hand on his back, and he yelped, the muscles on his back bunching up. “Merlin, woman! Your hands are as cold as a Dementor’s kiss!”

She frowned, her hands weren’t that cold, and how dare he compared them to a Dementor’s kiss! Feeling a bit vengeful, she splayed her fingers before smoothing her hands up and down his back. His whole body flinched in response. 

“Then you should warm them up for me,” she said with a giggle.

“I thought I was the paying customer?” he flinched again when she flipped her hands over and placed them against his back too.

“Actually, this is on a volunteer basis.”

“Ah, explains the quality of service,” he quipped.

“You’re such a prat, sometimes,” she said as she settled her hands firmly on his lower back once more and hopped up, straddling his hips and getting to work.

She was massaging out the knots in his left shoulder blade, but he was making it difficult by tensing up. 

“It comes with – ow!” he cried.

“Just try to relax, Draco, and stop squirming! It’s like riding a bull!”

“Ow, ow, ow,” he whined, “Witch, stop pinching me!”

“I’m not pinching you,” she said with indignation, “I’m _massaging_ you.”

He tried to buck her off, but she clamped her thighs tighter around his hips, “No, I’m fairly certain you’re pinching me!”

She stopped her hand movement, and huffed as she instead began to use her thumbs to rub out the bunched up muscles in his shoulder, “How about this?” she murmured near his ear.

She felt her body dip down as his body finally sank down onto the massage bed, “Much better,” he sighed out.

She popped open the bottle, and the smell of tart green apples and his aftershave filled her nose. She took a moment to close her eyes, feeling her own body relax from his scent alone.

She poured a liberal amount of the oil and rubbed her hands together to evenly coat them. She returned to the knots in his shoulders, slowly working her way down his taut and tense back, hoping to knead out some of the burdens on his shoulders; if myth was to be believed, even Atlas needed help holding up the heavens. 

He drew in a breath before exhaling into an audible sigh.

Finding tension where his shoulder and neck met she began to roll her thumb in a small circular motion to loosen it. He let out a low groan.

“You liked that?” she asked, trying to maintain her composure while her decadent, very naked, partner had such innocent yet erotic reactions to her small hands.

“Yes,” he moaned.

She slowly repositioned herself on the ground, pouring out some more oil to begin work on his extremities. Biting her lip she began working on his left thigh, maintaining as much professionalism as she drifted the tips of her fingers along his upper inner thigh, and lightly grazed the curve of his balls. She felt his thighs tense up before slowly relaxing under her gentle ministration down his thighs to the back of his knee. She worked on his calf paying extra attention to his heel, realizing these were the areas where you could feel that he carried the weight of the world.

She started on his other leg, earning her small groans of praise.

She lost herself admiring the feel of his lean muscles and his soft white marble skin. Moving to the rigid muscles of his arms, she gave special attention to his dominant hand, leaving it resting by his head. She noticed that he was unusually quiet; she had expected a lewd comment or two by now, followed by many attempts at breaking the ‘scene’.

Placing her hand on his neck she focused on his breathing and realized he fell asleep. She bent down enough to see up into the face port, his lips were slightly parted, and she could hear his quiet rhythmic breathing. She had almost forgotten how he looked without the wrinkled brows and slightly downturned lips caused by the stress of his business.

She felt pixies flutter in her gut at the thought that she was able to relax him enough for him to shed his airtight control around her. She had hoped he would let her get far enough with this scheme to actually help him relax; she didn’t expect her efforts at providing a relaxing rub down to be so _effective_. 

With a small smile tugging at her lips, she ran her fingers through his hair as she straightened out. Her heart nearly leapt out of her throat when his hands whipped out and grabbed her wrist.

She let out her breath slowly, knowing that to stay still was the safest option until she felt his hold loosen around her wrist. He lifted himself up from the face port and turned his head towards her. She watched his hazy grey eyes slowly focusing on her.

“Did I fall asleep?” he sleepily asked as he blinked his eyes to shake off the last dredges of the uninhibited rest she provided him with.

“Yes, but only just. I hadn’t meant to wake you either,” she gently tugged her wrist from his limp hold. She had forgotten that he was a light sleeper when all she wanted was to run her hands all over his body when it was relaxed as it was a few moments ago. She hadn't considered how quick he was to wake with a simple touch, a remnant of the war. 

“You must’ve been tired,” she said gently as she summoned her wand to clear the massage oil off of him.

“I’ve been doing nothing but sleep for the past few days,” Draco said shaking his head as he sat up, smiling sheepishly, “and perhaps a bit of moping with Ogden’s Finest in between.”

She raised a brow, “Draco, I thought Malfoy’s never sulk?”

Draco stared at her for a long moment before he shrugged, “First time for everything, I suppose.” He reached for the sash keeping her hidden from view, “I’m ready to turn onto my back now, madame.”

Her eyes trailed down to his groin, and his cock jerked from her attention. Chortling, she shook her head in disbelief. “You just woke up, and you’re thinking of _that_ already?”

“If anything, thanks to the nap, I’m more than ready.”

She grabbed the massage oil and popped open the bottle in response, eyeing him quietly for a moment before stoppering the bottle once more. She hummed as her eyes perused his very missed form. Perhaps she can skip a couple of steps; after all, she was not a real masseuse and her hands were beginning to cramp before she had startled him awake.

He laid back down with his hands laced behind his head, assessing her. 

She clucked her tongue playfully, “Now this just won’t do Mr. Malfoy. In order to make sure our very special guests have a complete and pleasurable experience, I need you to transition onto this much larger massage bed.”

With a wicked grin, Draco threw himself from the massage table to her bed as he laid back down, arms once again behind his head. 

Chuckling at his enthusiasm she gave him a small smile, reopening the oil bottle and trailing the oil drops from his sternum, down his rippling abs, and then tilting it more heavily, pouring it over his twitching groin.

He yelped, shuffling away from the steady stream of massage oil.

“Oops,” she said with faux innocent, “my hand slipped, my apologies.” 

“Unless you’re planning on massaging just my prick-“ he hissed, cutting himself off when her fingers ghosted from the base of his half hardened cock to the tip before grabbing it firmly. She let out a barely audible moan as she stroked him slowly. She loved the feeling of his heat mixed with the silky smooth oil between her fingers.

Once she was sure her hand could keep hold of his hardening shaft her other hand slowly trailed up his treasure trail. She licked her lips at the way the treasure trail glistened from the oil and candlelights. 

She felt his prick jerk for her attention, and she looked back down. Momentarily mesmerized at how her hand followed the glazed path up and down, she straddled him slowly, unwilling to let him go just yet. 

Once situated mid-thigh, she continued her torturous glide along his member. On the next up stroke she used her thumb to apply pressure just under the head then glided it up to the tip to bring his leaking come to join the massage oil. His hips jerked up, breath stuttering out, begging her to go faster when her wrist twisted just under the head again. 

She finally allowed her own lust-filled gaze to look up at him, swallowing a moan at how intensely he watched her hand stroking him.

Without stopping her _massage_ she casually commented, “It’s getting quite hot in here.” She pulled the sash loose revealing her naked body as it fell open. Finally letting go of his cock, she coyly shrugged off her only piece of attire. Biting her lower lip again she looked back up at Draco,“I hope you don’t-“ she yelped in surprise when he pulled her flat against him. 

His lips latched on to her bottom lip, “Only I can bite this lip,” he breathed as he nibbled and sucked both her bottom lip and her top before proceeding to snog her senseless. His hand snaked between them, giving himself a quick stroke to gather the oil onto his own hands. He let himself go as he slid his hand, now slicked with oil, down her spine until he could knead her plump arse. 

She detached herself from his mouth with a small whimper as she felt the shaft, the ridge, and his head grind against her navel. She jerked slightly as one especially enthusiastic shifting of his hips had his balls teasing her clit. They continued to tumble and roll around together, focusing on light nibbles and open mouthed sucking wherever they could reach without letting go of the other. 

He gave one last suck of her bottom lip before planting butterfly kisses down her jaw. “You smell so good,” his lips found her earlobe, and she shivered as he teased her; his hips continued to roll against her.

“It-it’s the oil,” she managed to whimper out. Her mind was growing hazy as the scent of _him_ filled the room—the oil’s scent growing potent from their added body heat.

“No,” he dragged her up, and she was forced to hover over his head with her nipples just barely grazing his lips. She placed her hands flat on the bed to keep from smothering him. “It’s you,” he said before his mouth covered her left nipple, suckling greedily as she locked her elbows to brace herself against the onslaught of sensation. She watched him, hair dangling down above them, as his fingers found her other nipple. She moaned between ragged breaths when he began to tweak and twist it, sending jolts of pain mixed with pleasure to her core.

Her mind was growing foggy, and her vision started to blur around the edges to focus on only Draco – _wait_ – did he say that he smelled her instead of the oil? Or perhaps he was actually – her mind abruptly shut down when he flipped her over and thrust his cock in her with one swift movement.

She cried, back-arching, part shock and part pleasure written all over her. The oil made the penetration smoother, but she could still feel his cock stretching her, demanding her to accommodate.

“Are you alright?” he asked between his pants, one hand pushing her wild mane off her face.

She managed a weak nod, “You’re a lot to take in at once.”

She felt his chest rumble as he gave a breathless laugh, “You did mention something earlier about riding the bull.” Before she could ask what he was talking about, he started to slam into her with abandon. Bodies slicked with the oil and their own sweat, she felt strands of her hair sticking to her face. However, she could barely think, the scent of the oil was fogging up her thoughts or was it just Draco? All she could think was _him, him, him_.

She found her body shifting upward every time he slammed back into her. Her head was caged between his forearms, his head dipped low and she felt his lips grazing the side of her neck. His ragged breath only spurred her own arousal, and her ears went deaf to her own moans and breathless demands of _more_ , _harder_ , _yes_. 

She barely noticed when his right hand carded her hair into his fist until she felt her scalp prickle when he pulled her hair to tilt her head back, exposing her neck. He laid open mouth kisses up and down the column of her neck.

Her fingers raked up from the tight hold she had on his shoulders up through his hair, and she felt the soft strands clumping from the oil residue on her hands. She hooked her legs around his waist, causing his motion to be shortened by half. He didn’t seem to mind, moaning lowly as his head was still buried deep inside of her and rocked his body against her. 

With her legs locked behind him, his pubic bone was beginning a delicious onslaught against her clit. With a resounding smack of flesh on flesh and the scent of _him,_ of _them,_ she felt the rising pressure bubbling from her extremities towards her belly button. 

She tugged his head up by his hair so he would look at her while he was working the most intimate part of her body. “So beautiful,” he murmured and she noticed a bead of sweat rolling down from his temple and rested on the point of his chin. She could feel his breaths coming in short rasps against her mouth, and his pupils were blown wide, leaving only a thin ring of his steel-grey eyes. His face was calm, brows relaxed, mouth slightly agape but smooth from frown lines, reminding her of the serenity she saw during his impromptu nap. 

Suddenly, a barrage of thoughts prodded alongside the fog of pleasure like pins and needles. Luna had explained that users of _Deepest Pleasure_ would experience the scent they found most comforting, their favourite scent. She knew she loved his aftershave and the sharp tang of green apple that always permeated when he drank his tea. She liked laughing with him and acting silly together as he indulged her in acting out her fantasies. She felt at peace when she curled up next to him with a book during a lazy Sunday afternoon, a comfort she had been missing in her previous relationship.

Her list of things she liked about their time together continued to increase as his hand cradled her cheek, and he dipped down to capture her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she savoured the feel of his soft lips and the way his tongue gently glided in and massaged her tongue, almost as if he knew she was on the precipice of something.

Her thoughts fell away except for a single sensation. She loved him, full stop. 

Her eyes snapped open and she was thankful his lips were on hers forcing her realization to remain silent while he continued his gentle assault on her mouth, knowing that saying _I love you_ now would ruin the moment. Instead, she urged him closer to her, connecting their lips more firmly together, and he took that as a sign to pump faster, forcing her legs to let up a bit so he could be more aggressive with his mouth and his hips. 

She needed him to kiss away her love. She wanted him to swallow her feelings and be the first one to fall in love. She was cautious - no, she was _terrified_ \- of being the first one to fall in love between the two. She only needed to learn _that_ lesson once, or at least she thought she had. 

Her own lips became insistent, forming the word “love” and “please.” He ripped his lips away from her - “Hermione,” he panted, “what do you need, love?” he asked. He was panting, and his pale cheeks were flushed pink. 

She knew he was asking her what she would like next to increase her pleasure and possibly come. But instead, she felt her eyes prickle, and her nose sting, “You,” she whispered, replaying the way his lips formed the word love on repeat. His hips stuttered to a stop, and he rested deep inside of her all the way to his hilt. 

He gave a breathless laugh, and his lips ghosted over hers. “You already have me, love,” his voice softened, as he caressed her cheek with his thumb, a tender smile on his face. 

Her lips trembled as she closed her eyes, “Please,” she begged, letting the words linger on her tongue. Please don’t say _love_ like that, she wanted to say instead. Her mind already translating each caress, each stroke, as a sign of affection beyond carnal desire. 

She felt his bodyweight leave her and she shivered as her heart missed his warmth so close to her own. She slowly opened her eyes, and he beamed a bright smile at her. He began to grind his hips against her entrance once again while his thumb brushed against her clit. She shuddered a breath, and her hips raised towards him as an offering. He took that as an invitation as he began to stroke the bundles of nerves in tight circles and she felt electric shocks coursing through her veins. 

“Draco!” she cried as his pace began to quicken. His eyes never left hers, and a well of emotions started to overflow and spread throughout her body. “I love-,” she bit her lip before she gasped out, “-this,” censoring herself at the last moment. 

She felt her head sink deeper into the mattress. “I do too, love,” he moaned as his free hand squeezed her hips while the other continued to stroke her clit.

It was the right four words in the wrong context, but it was enough for her right now to finally fall over to the edge. She threw her head back, her body quivered, and her hips jutted forward, plunging him deeper inside of her. A cry ripped out of her as she felt waves of intense pleasure lapping over every crevice of her body. 

His pace sped up as he chased his own completion through the contracting of her walls. His head bowed low, and his nails dug into her hips as he grunted heavily, burying himself deep inside her one final time, lining her sex with his seed. The room was silent save for the slow steadying of their breath after reaching their peak.

He slipped out of her with a groan and plopped his body beside her. He rested on his side, one hand propping his head up slightly as he laid the other over her stomach. His hand was shiny from the oil, and he began to rub small circles on her belly.

“Next time, I’ll massage you,” he laughed slightly.

“Okay,” she said in a listless voice. She slowly turned her head to fully look at him, and turned the rest of her body to mirror his own. His face was relaxed as he rested his eyes, a small smile adorned his face, as his hand now rested on her hip and continued the soft circles against her hip.

Seeing him so beautifully at ease she felt a strong urge to ask him what he smelled from the oil. But doubt continued to plague her mind; what if he smelled something that wasn’t related to her? She could still ask. She should just ask and douse her burning curiosity.

But she felt vulnerable, and she wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to hear what could be a major disappointment, especially not after having mind-blowing sex. A flash of an ugly sneer, red hair and freckles crossed her mind, and her gaze dropped to his throat, as she worked to swallow through the growing lump in her throat.

She was so deep in thought that she wasn’t aware his hand left her hip as he brought his fingers up to smooth out the wrinkles between her brows with his thumb. The sudden touch snapped her out of her spiralling thoughts of self-doubt and lingering heart ache. She looked up, eyes wide and felt a small prick of heat on her cheeks.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” he asked, his eyes now half opened with a lazy grin from his post-orgasmic haze.

Her mouth opened, and she took a moment to imagine telling him that she was thinking about him, about them. Explaining her vulnerabilities and scarred past and how frightening and exhilarating it was that she may have fallen in love with him despite only seeing each other for a short while. To explain her whirlwind of thoughts all afternoon and how deathly curious she was about what he smelled from the massage oil. Was it her scent like Draco’s scent was hers?

But she swallowed all of her thoughts and imaginings, understanding that to know something and to speak on it were two vastly different things when concerning matters of the heart. She brought forward another topic instead, “A-about your curse-breaking business,” she whispered, trying to banish all other revelations from her mind and focus back on his business.

He responded with a groan before flipping on his back. “Must we talk about this now?” he protested.

She sidled up closer to his side and rested her head against his shoulder, “Yes, I need your answer.” 

He gave one last defiant huff before responding, “Well, let’s say I agree to teach a class,” he paused for a moment. She looked up to see him furrowing his brows, “What if no one shows up?”

“Nonsense! People will show-“

He cut her off, “What if? Then that gives the vultures at the Prophet another story to beat to death and denounce my business even further,” he spat.

She wanted to placate him and tell him that people wouldn’t let the past affect their desire to learn, but she realized that not many people pursue learning with as much passion as she. She didn’t want to fill him up with false hope and platitudes either, that was the last thing he needed. “Well, how many people need to show up to convince you to teach?” she asked.

His shoulders jerked up before sagging down, “I don’t know,” he murmured.

“Maybe ten? Would that be enough?” she asked.

“Yea, I suppose so,” his lips barely forming the words.

“Okay, then if less than ten people sign up, we can cancel the class under the guise of rescheduling for a later date,” she said.

He finally looked at her with brows raised, “You’ll be okay with that?” he asked.

“Of course I won’t be _okay_ with having your class cancelled!” She sighed. “I want people to see how amazing you are. So I will be very disappointed if no one takes this _golden_ opportunity to learn something valuable, but I also understand why having a minimum is important,” she said, her frown deepening at the thought of the Wizarding community continuing to discredit Draco’s skills due to his past. “I know, I’ll be joining your class,” she added with a more gentle expression.

“You are?” he asked, his body slightly shifting away from her.

“Is that a problem?” she challenged, wondering if she should feel offended from that adverse reaction.

He grinned, “You’ll take any opportunity to go to class, eh, Granger?”

She slapped his chest, “Oh, stop it! I _am_ fascinated with curse breaking, and it would be interesting to learn from a _Master_!”

He laughed and gathered her in his arms until her face was pressed against his chest. “Oh, Hermione,” he sighed as he nuzzled his nose against her hair.

“So, is that a yes?” she asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Yes,” he said before planting a small kiss on her forehead.

She sighed a breath of relief and closed her eyes, enjoying his warmth and his arms around her, cradling her.

She slowly felt herself being lulled into a deep sleep, before he spoke up again, “How did you manage to get Mrs. Worthinger to agree to all of this? She’s probably the most crotchety witch of our age!”

“First of all, Mrs. Worthinger is a lovely witch,” she just _knew_ he rolled his eyes at her. “Second, I’m not sure if you really want to know. It could give you nightmares.”

She suppressed a laugh when she felt his whole body tense.

“Nope, you piqued my insatiable curiosity, now, I really want to know,” his voice lowered.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she added a lilt of teasing in her voice. She cleared her throat for a dramatic effect, “Well, I once saw her reading a Muggle erotica-“

“Ew,” he interjected.

She ignored him and pressed on, “And it just so happened that I read it as well. To satisfy your curiosity it’s about a woman getting into bondage play.”

“Oh?” he whispered into her ear as he pressed his cock against her.

She scoffed at his response before continuing, “So, that obviously segued into us talking further about, well, sex.”

“Ew,” his body pulled back, “you talked about sex with Mrs. Worthinger? She’s old enough to be my great-grandmother!”

“Don’t be rude, Draco, it’s perfectly healthy to talk about sex,” she chided, “Anyways, we somehow got on the topic of muggle sex toys, you know the Dragon dildo I showed you-“

“Oh my Merlin, don’t finish the story, Hermione, I swear to-“

“So I ordered her an 8-inch dragon dildo, it’s purple _and_ has sparkles,” she pressed on.

He gagged, “Oh, bloody hell.”

“She told me that I gave her a _stellar_ recommendation,”

“Stop, please,” he begged, but she felt encouraged to finish this story now.

“I told her that I came across this because I thought of _you_ since it’s basically your name.” This part was total bollocks, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Hermione?” he asked in a hushed tone.

She looked up to see his scrunched up lips and couldn’t help but embellish the story even further, “I may have mentioned that you’re well endowed.”

He tucked his chin in, and his face soured, “Is that why she looks at me funny?”

She laughed out loud and rolled on her back until tears streamed down her face.

“You little minx!” He growled before he climbed on top of her forcing her to stay in one spot.

She closed her lips, but little whimpers of laughter still managed to escape.

His eyes sparkled with amusement; she was sure, reflecting her own. His head dipped low, and he peppered her with kisses, just light enough for her to squirm and giggle. “Stop,” she cried while laughing, “it’s ticklish!”

He only stopped when she started to cough from laughing too hard. He lifted his head, “Hermione, that was a _very_ disturbing image you just put in my head. I demand my mind to be purified.”

She raised a brow, “And how do you propose we do that?”

“Perhaps, it’s your turn to experience my fabulous fingers,” he grinned with a mischievous glint in his quicksilver eyes.

“Don’t you mean massag – OH!” she gasped.

Suffice to say, she conceded to the fact that Draco was a far better masseuse than she.

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Author’s Note:_
> 
> _I wanted to release this sooner but real life stopped me. The next part will be released in about three weeks._

**Author's Note:**

> Please drop a comment/concrit; I would love to hear your thoughts!


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